You Need Pie

I am not a huge sweets lover, but I never met a donut I would turn down. My other sweet downfall, although I am more persnickety, is PIE. I like fruit pies and have a high bar of expectation for these delights.

Growing up in the Midwest may have something to do with my fruit pie affinity. What is more American than pie? I was spoiled, however, with the pies that my mom and aunt made because they were hard to duplicate.

My favorite pie is apple pie made by my mom. Since she passed away three years ago and made far fewer pies in her later years due to declining health, I have not had my favorite apple pie for a while. She taught me how to make pie, but I was never that good with the crust. I can, however, make the apples taste much like moms.

For five years I participated in RAGBRAI (Register’s Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa). I subsisted on pie on that ride. It was the best of days when I had pie for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Because most apple pie did not taste like my mother’s, I opted to try variations of rhubarb pie as I rode across the state. I had wonderful pie, and other times, not so great.

We have a diner in Estes Park called, “You Need Pie.” I walk by it most days when I go to the lake. I usually do not carry any money with me, or I would be tempted continually to stop in for a piece “to go.” They serve regular diner food but also have a selection of pie items: quiches, cheesecake, and usually more than a dozen fruit pies—purist pies like cherry or apple, and combination pies like strawberry rhubarb, blueberry apple, and the like.

Twice a month I indulge in a piece of pie. I savor it as an evening treat. The sweetness reminds me of my Iowa roots. I rationalize pie as a reward for having had a good day of hiking or volunteering in the park. On chilly days, pie is comfort food. On warm days, a little ice cream on top is refreshing.

Although I do not NEED pie, I want it as a special indulgence to nourish my sweet tooth and my soul.